Which Direction Is It?
MY TRUE NORTH
Q:Which direction is it?
A: Imagine a glass house dressed in exquisite interiors, humid from the indoor pool that wafts memories with the likeness of the local rec center from our childhood. Floor-to-ceiling windows inspire perspective and allow the morning light to pour in without warning, illuminating every corner. The temperature fluctuates, noticeably sensitive to and in sync with the surrounding environment. Vulnerability presents itself and yet there is a sense of strength and faith that this house will hold us powerfully through the storms, inside and out. What metaphor did we just live through in that sanctuary, three hours from the hustle and bustle of New York City?
It is wonderful to be a human being on this planet right now, breathing, alive, especially relishing in the Being part of it all. Even if a bit tired from a long and expansive weekend, my attention is on the awe and amazement of what is possible. Some of you already know that I live by the sentiment that everything is possible…(I may have mentioned it a few times in lyric, prose, haiku, journaling, and in any way I have been able to squeeze this encompassing philosophy of my heart into the myriad of expressions I insatiably seek : ).
And today I perch myself on the cusp of my inner and outer planes of existence to reflect upon the everything-ness of this moment. There is a very nourished Ciela over here, both from being fed copious amounts of unctuous deliciousness in the form of actual food and from my experience of said weekend. I find myself now, at my happy place – writing – attempting to articulate feelings and visions I’ve never known before. I love a great challenge of this sort.
the power of community
I was invited to join a phenomenal group of humans to discover ourselves in the realms of sound, meditation, vocalization, adventure, vulnerability, artistry, intellect, song, healing, nature, nurture, and of course laughter within the bounds of the Hudson River Valley. Many already knew each other but I was not one of those people. I stepped into the glass house on the hill that would become our home to stretch time in for the next couple of days, and I felt my heart weep in gratitude and relief. I felt instantly at home.
Everything from the details of the seating arrangements to the fulfillment of dietary needs without compensating textures or flavors, to gifts, questions, and overwhelming enthusiasm swept through the dining areas with ease and delight. An opening circle ensued to continue the peeling of layers that would simply guide us through our time together and honestly, it hasn’t stopped.
The first snowfall occurred during morning yoga as we chanted words to carry us from the untruth to the truth, darkness to light, death to immortality, and to encourage our knowing of peace. Everyone brought a story to share, a journey of a life lived until that very moment weaving itself through and serendipitously arriving there at the perfect time, in magnificent company.
There was courage. Bravery. True valor moved through the minds and hearts of each and everyone present. We all were faced with aspects of self that encouraged intense and profound growth. Trepidation, hurdling through and beyond illusions of all kinds. Transmutation. Instead of diverting from the daunting, we stayed there…down in the dirt. The knowingness of others doing deep work in solidarity and responsibly is a party I can easily get behind. Truly, what else is there? It is my favorite place to rest, in the rhythm of like-hearted others overcoming their fears and letting go of the untruth in favor of truth.
A SOUND MEDITATION
Sound. Sound meditation. Sound meditation pulsing, roaring, tempering, thrilling, flowing, growing, purging, churning, caressing, completing, birthing, new-skinning…all. Of. It. Into the realms of consciousness we went. I personally set an intention for a true assessment of my recent choices and the new life path I am still walking into. I’ll always remember the best advice I’ve received about asking questions of this nature. If you ask the question, you should be ready to receive the answer, whatever it may be.
Honestly, I was a bit nervous knowing that if the answer was to change course again, I would – because I am really enjoying this current chapter of life, as arduous as it can be sometimes to be forged in the fire of NYC. Thankfully I didn’t have to be concerned. Out of every single journey I’ve ever partaken in this life of mine, I have never reached such pristine clarity as I did on this very night. The gifts were plentiful, but the insight was exemplary. There is so much to share about this and share I will over the course of the next many journals and moon cycles, so stay tuned.
A GIFT OF DESTINY
For now, all I can say is that I received my destiny, my True North, written in the palms of my hands in the most beautiful and sacred language that only my soul knew how to read. It is there, the invitation to become my true nature and live out the destiny gifted from within my heart. What a radical concept! And if true for you too, your hands, extensions of your own heart, may very well be the map of your life unfolding right before your very eyes.
Through our tender voices and the sharing of tears, song, and wisdom from beyond, we communed and integrated, paradoxically peeling away the layers while simultaneously emerging new from our cocoons and stronger than before. Unanimously, the best part was in the togetherness. It was there that time could stand still, even bellow with robust fervor to expand every moment into several all at once. The joy was palpable and the care, profound. As I write this I am deeply moved by the example of what can be revealed when open hearts come together.
As the sun set, the gong swooned us into naps and dreams, and I dare say the healing had just begun. To end, a rose, a bud, and a thorn. The rose…for most it was each other and thoughtful moments shared to bring us into even more of a “whole” community, living each other’s experience through memory. The bud, the “everything is possible-ness” of the world we had co-created in such a brief amount of time and knowing we had planted immense seeds with one another. The thorn, all good things come to an end, as does everything…only to be reborn again. This is it.
Listen to the audio version of this journal entry here.
For more musings like this, subscribe here
Join Ciela’s Patreon
We cannot change the world until we accept we are the world. This is the new conversation.